


Devil's Tricks

by Omano



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Human, Handcuffs, M/M, Magic Tricks, Street-magician!Lucifer, also a touch of Coffee-shop AU, street magician au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-07
Updated: 2014-08-07
Packaged: 2018-02-12 05:03:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2096787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Omano/pseuds/Omano
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On his way to work Michael bumps into a street magician. After a few encounters he is swooned, and after a few more he is planning revange. He hunts Lucifer down for getting him into embarrassing situations, and strictly only thinks about vengeance and definitely NOT how he wants to bang the handsome devil.</p>
<p>Meanwhile Gabriel and Raphael are the awesome, supporting friends Michael wants to strangle most minutes of the day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Devil's Tricks

**Author's Note:**

> There are a lot of AUs collected on my tumblr and one night after watching some Mentalist I found the street magician one. I wanted to write something short, and see what I got. I will never write anything short. *deep sigh*
> 
> On the other hand I'm writing too much Michifer lately, and NOT writing even more, which, obviously, makes Michean and Samifer that much harder...

 

"Seriously, Michael,” the irritation in Raphael’s voice was palpable and unmistakeable for anyone who wanted to walk out of the café with all their limbs attached, “Couldn’t you leave your kinks at home?”

“Leave him, Raph, he’s getting the hang of it,” Gabriel sniggered, only pinned to the spot by her death glare. “Besides, if it gets him laid…”

Michael paid them no heed. His hard, unwavering and determined gaze was trained on the barista behind the counter while under the table he continued to clasp and then unclasp the pair of handcuffs on the far leg of the table. Raphael and Gabriel’s banter that possibly fell into making bets in a second whether he would succeed in his mission or not flew by his ear. He only had eyes for the milky-blond, pale-blue-eyed man with a remaining spot of glitter behind his ear.

Never had he ever met someone he couldn’t place like that ‘Lucifer’ guy.

Some days Michael would call him his arch enemy, especially when he had to spend his whole way to work shaking glitter _(angeldust)_ out of his hair, or when he was half an hour late from the office because of this devil.

Then on others, especially in the soft darkness of his bedroom he couldn’t help but think fondly of the artful hands, the sharp smirk and the mesmerizing eyes, their lightning flash highlighted by eyeliner.

Michael had stumbled over the street magician by accident.

Gabriel had borrowed his car and thus he had to take the bus which also added a good ten minutes walk to work.

After the first corner his way was blocked by a flock of people, amazed and sometimes flabbergasted sounds erupting from the group. Michael had grumbled, but not even his darkest glare could make way for him.

So, eventually he decided to take his risk of crazy taxi drivers and abandoned the pavement.

That decision had doomed him for weeks.

Head stubbornly set, eyes trained on the empty (or emptier) side of the sidewalk he was startled when a hand reached out and grabbed him above the elbow. His heart thundered so loud in his chest that at first it didn’t even register that someone was talking to him.

“… know I’m deviously charming, but I only asked if you had an Iphone.”

Michael was met by the most radiant and most obnoxious of ravishing smiles he had ever seen.

“I’m not in the mood to be mugged,” he snapped, brows knit together.

Anyone in their right mind would have skittered away, but not this guy. His smile only sharpened. Michael suddenly couldn’t decide if he wanted to run away or smother the disgustingly handsome devil on the spot (preferably with his mouth).

So he stood his ground firm.

“Oh I don’t have such things in mind,” the blond drawled, his voice low and smooth, yet acoustical over the noise of traffic. “I only wish to have my card back.”

“I don’t have time for this.”

In the periphery of his perception the crowd thickened and writhed on the pavement, pushing and pulling like one huge amoeba.

“Can I take a look please?”

Michael tried to remain impassive, and as condescending as he usually was (he turned it up a notch out of sheer stubbornness) as he handed his new phone over, eyes trained on all fiddling movement of the long fingers. He nearly burst a nerve when the guy twirled it around in his hand, then threw it up in the air so it would land back in his palm, now upside-down.

The blond swiftly slipped the back off—

Michael’s outstretched hand froze mid-motion as he stared.

After taking his swing on the waves of gasps the guy picked out the card folded on the battery and with a flick of fingers smoothed it out. With a flourish, mocking bow he held the card up to a grinning blonde girl.

“Is this your card, miss?”

Totally stunned out of his goddamn mind Michael wouldn’t have noticed if the man had pocketed his phone. Hell, he wouldn’t care!

But whatever Gabriel said later, he wasn’t swooned by this performance (and absolutely not by the wink he received along with his phone after either).

The following day, however, Michael took the bus to work. Again. Only because Gabriel was preparing to charm his car-keys out of his pocket with one of his kicked-puppy looks, and he truly just wanted to spare his cousin the trouble. Michael wasn’t fascinated by a simple street-magician. Bah! Ridiculous.

It was only mind-wrenching to drive in the morning traffic, and he really couldn’t help if he liked taking the same roots. It was convenient. And it was totally accidental that each morning Michael had been pushed to the front of the crowd that gathered around Lucifer, the street magician.

_Somehow_ the pale blue eyes always found him.

Lucifer liked card tricks, liked finding a ring hidden in the crowd, making things disappear, coin tricks and above all feathers and glitter. He was obsessed with these last two. One morning he disappeared in the glimmering cloud of stardust and left only a grey-dotted dove in his place.

That was the only time Michael admitted that he was a tiny bit spellbound.

And not because before the escapade Lucifer presented him a rose he had magiced out of a lady’s purse. (For the matter the rose burst into flames the moment Lucifer turned his back on Michael.)

After that things had gotten a bit rough, hence the arch-enemy status.

One day Michael became the centre of laughter as he was the one picked to pull an endless string of pearls (and by endless he meant that there was just _no end_ to it) out of Lucifer’s skinny jeans pocket. There was no way he could hide such a long chain when he could count the coins in those tight pockets.

Michael despised being laughed at.

Then it happened again.

Next, his jacket fell victim of Lucifer’s charm and tricks. It took Michael way too long, and way too much talking with idiots to get it down from the flagpole of the opposite building.

The final straw was when only in passing Michael was suddenly grabbed by the arm, and before he could rile back at the disturbingly close proximity of the blond devil, Lucifer smirked, tugged at his other hand, and the next second he was cuffed to a lamppost. As in he was practically hugging the lamppost.

Michael had been plotting his revenge ever since.

Now, a week of definitely-not-stalking, he spent his lunch-break sitting at the café (he found out Lucifer worked at to gain his daily-bread – don’t listen to Gabriel, Michael wasn’t obsessed. Not. At. All.) practicing his handcuffing skills.

Gabriel kicked him in the shin.

“You know you can’t just walk up to the counter and ask you dream-boy to stick out his hands,” Gabriel wiggled his eyebrows, totally disregarding Michael’s devastating glare. “He might misinterpret the situation.”

“What’s you point?” Michael asked cocking an eyebrow.

“He means that you are too blunt,” Raphael cut in on her deadly tone. “Too straight-forward.”

A muscle in Michael’s jaw twitched as his eyes flashed menacingly at Gabriel.

“Let’s be honest your tactical skills are awful,” Gabriel really had no part in his miniscule brain responsible for self-preservation. “You’re frigid, under-sexed, not even a slightly romantic bone in you.”

“When did it become about my sexual life? It’s not about sex.”

“Point is. You’d need to distract someone who lives on distraction. And while flirting is the best—“ Gabriel made some vague waving motions with his hand. “Do you even know what that word means?”

Michael scoffed.

“I have it sorted out.”

He pocketed his handcuffs carefully and with graceful fluidity stood from their booth. An aura of familiar arrogance hung around him.

“Twenty bucks say he’ll make a fool of himself,” Gabriel muttered as he leant closer to Raphael.

“Thirty, and he’ll have the cuffs on his own hands by the second sentence,” Raphael nodded.

“Fifty that he’ll have a pot of coffee down his pants by then.”

They watched, both intently and as subtly as it was possible craning their necks to look over their shoulders as Michael walked up to the counter.

Gabriel was a bit disappointed that he couldn’t see Michael fidget and flush with excitement/anxiousness as a normal person would who just decided to walk up to their crush (because who was he kidding? A blind man in Europe would see that Michael was crushing on that guy. Arch-enemy in his dictionary was the equivalent of I-want-to-climb-you-like-a-tree). But probably it wasn’t to be expected from sociopathic oversized canaries.

The lady with a moustache finally ordered up the whole menu, and Michael stepped up to the counter with impossible ease and indifference on his features that totally stuck on him from Raphael (or maybe it was the other way round), one hand casually sunk in his pocket.

Tension grew at the table like in old Western movies before the final duel of the sheriff and renegade.

Gabriel leant over the table.

After the unmistakeable glint of recognition in the blond barista’s eye he flashed a definitely seductive smile at Michael. Then it widened by a fracture. Michael must have returned it on his own way.

Even Raphael was holding her breath in anticipation.

Then the bubble burst.

They were about to start grumbling, because Michael obviously chickened out. He only ordered his coffee, and maybe Lucifer was a bit disappointed as well.

“We’re not related,” Gabriel groaned with a disgusted frown as he slumped in his seat.

With a dramatic eyeroll Raphael turned back to her coffee (black as her heart).

Then—

“WHAT?!”

Gabriel nearly jumped over the top of the bench, and Raphael nearly spilled her drink in surprise. She whipped her head around, her eyes rounding.

She was still quick enough to catch Michael loosening his hold on the front of the barista’s apron, their lips parting just a fracture, then taking advantage of the blond guy’s (and the whole café’s) surprise he snapped the handcuffs on his wrists.

The whole café was engulfed in silence.

The first one to snap back to their senses was Lucifer.

By the moment the handsome guy who just randomly kissed him to get back at him for one of his magic tricks from a week ago (and yes, he had been searching for him in the crowd _every_ morning, so sue him; he didn’t have such a hot helpmate in his performances all the time), for a moment uncaring for the metal cuffs grabbed the man’s shirt and pulled him back into another kiss.

He might have spilled the coffee all over the counter in his attempt to push his tongue down the raven’s throat.

What? He had to make sure the smugness was wiped from those sinfully kissable lips.

When they separated, both a bit dazed with shiny, swollen red mouths, the aura of smugness only thickened around them.

“How about you find out my number and ring me up tonight?” Michael asked on the most blood-stirring husky voice.

Lucifer’s broadened smirk was definitely one of the cat’s who just got the canary. He loved that particular shade of pink on those chiselled cheekbones.

“I’ll need you to think about it,” he murmured back against Michael’s lips. “ _Real hard_.”

He smashed their mouths back together in another deep, but sadly too quick kiss.

“ _Ahem_.” A wavy-brunette cleared her throat to Lucifer’s side. She was glaring daggers at him. “I thought you’ve had enough sexual-assault at the workplace courses.”

Lucifer cut a quick glance at Michael (he definitely loved this flushed and royally irritated look on him, and a wondering thought flashed through him if he could recreate it in bed, maybe with a deeper shade of scarlet dusting down that marvellous chest—)

“Certainly, Meg,” he answered, eyes still trained hungrily on Michael.

Michael glared at the brunette then cocked an elegant eyebrow at Lucifer.

“I couldn’t get it _harder_ ,” he said. With a meaningful look he turned on his heels and walked back to the booth he shared with his friends.

Lucifer definitely loved to watch him go.

Without breaking a sweat the handcuffs fell from his wrists, while Meg gave him an earful about his flirting habits.

 

“So, how much do you owe me?” Michael asked as he slipped back into his seat.

Gabriel, who was supposed to snap back in reply, was still stunned and eerily silent. After a pause Raphael answered, the lower half of her face hidden behind her mug.

“Nothing if you can’t get laid tonight.”

Michael rolled his eyes.

“I fail to see why you’re so obsessed with that.”

“I just want to keep my money.”

“…Did you get his number?” Gabriel finally snapped back into his high-schooler, gossip-y self.

“No.”

“Jesus, Michael, it’s time you take some date-courses, because I swear to God—“

“He should call me.”

“So you gave him yours.”

“No. Or at least not directly.”

The momentary relief that crossed Gabriel’s face was gone. With great theatrics he dropped his head in his hands and well articulated and absolutely agitated he started his litany about Michael having been dropped on his head short after birth, and how his pretty looks weren’t enough especially when he was such a douche, etc, etc.

“You know that’s just humbug, right?” Raphael sent her friend a pitying look.

On cue, Michael’s phone went off.

He fished it out of his pocket, unlocked the screen and scanned the message. After that, with a smug grin he held the phone in front of Raphael.

“You were saying?”

— _When do u finish? I know a good place 4 the night ;)  
    L_

 

 

Next morning Michael was enriched by 80 dollars.

Raphael handed her 30 over without making a fuss. Michael glowing and radiating a new level of sexed-out smugness was enough for her.

Gabriel, on the other hand demanded to see actual proof of Michael’s night-time activities. Which resulted in Raphael also getting informed of the correct number of hickies and bitemarks blooming on Michael’s shoulder (13 in total), and the scratchmarks and fingerprints on his side and hips.

Why could Gabriel never shut his goddamn mouth?

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked it :) Let me know <3


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